


Evening Lights off the Fire Escape

by aeoleus



Series: Actions, rather than Words [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I have no ragrats, Its v hot in nyc in the summer, John and alex cant afford ac, M/M, but its fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeoleus/pseuds/aeoleus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a wicked hot summer night in NYC, and Alex and John don't have a/c. How the hell are they supposed to sleep? </p><p>(This is disgustingly domestic fluff. I have no shame.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John woke up drenched in sweat. A hot mass was draped over him, and this only increased the quickly becoming unbearable temperature of the bedroom.

"Alex," He grumbled, pushing the boiling body off his own. "Get the fuck off me. 'S too hot."

Alex rolled away, groaned theatrically.  
"Why isn't the a/c on?"

"Alexander, we don't _have_ a/c."  
Alex kept rolling, and with an unceremonial _thump_ , fell from the bed and landed on the wooden floor.

"And why, in the name of all that is good and true and holy, do we not have a/c?" He asked from the ground. "I'm gonna die of heat stroke."

John sat up and peeled his drenched shirt off.  
"Is it cooler down there?" He asked.

"Sort of. It's kinda a placebo effect. 'Heat rises' 'n shit."

"Good enough for me." John rolled off the bed and lay eagle spread on the ground, sighing as the cool wood touched his back. It was silent for a while. John watched the fan above them spin, cursing its futility. When he turned, Alex had again closed his eyes. John wasn't surprised; Alex had a knack for being able to sleep anywhere. This is why he was surprised when Alex said:

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't sleep."

"Yeah, me neither."

"Too hot."

"Yeah." He agreed.

"Fire escape?"

"Yeah."  
Alex scrambled up, stretched, (John got a lovely view of a sweat stain on his back) then went to the corner of their room and opened the window. He stepped through, and John followed.

He found his boyfriend dangling his bare feet off the ledge, resting his chin on the railing. Sirens were blaring in the distance. Cars were honking at each other, and in the apartment directly across from them, a couple was fighting animatedly in their living room window. Four stories down, a few kids were walking home from parties and night clubs, drunkenly singing Broadway tunes . There was a small, cool breeze (off the Hudson, maybe?) blowing. Alex patted the metal next to him, and John clambered down. It was silent save for the raucus that was New York, but John didn't think of it as nuisance as he did when he first arrived three years ago. Rather, white noise. Calming, soothing.

Alex braided John's sweaty mop, humming softly as he did so.  
"You need a haircut, _mi querido_." Alex said as he ran his fingers through the curls.

"Yeah." John said. He reached up and patted the top of his head. Alex had decided to French braid, good. "It's too hot for long hair. I'm thinking short sides, longer top."

"Long as you keep the curls." Alex said absently. He finished the braid and kissed the top of Alex's head. He leaned forward over the railing, looking at all the busy streets below. John caught a few words of the song he was singing, something about a war and an unborn child.

"What're you up to tomorrow?" John asked.

"I've got class at nine, then I'm at the kid's center till five." Alex said.

"Yeah? What's going on at the center?"

"The kids wrote a play, we're starting to practice it. They said they wanted it done in time for Eliza's birthday so they could perform it for her."

"Sounds fun. I'll have to see the final performance."  
Alex hummed in agreement.

"I love those little guys." He said softly.  
John laughed and nudged him gently with his shoulder.

"You're great with them, too. You're gonna be a great dad someday."

"Hope so." Alex took John's hand and squeezed it. They sat for a few more minutes, silently sitting above the energy and noise of the streets.

"You hear 'bout the foreign affairs committee in the House?" Alex asked.

"Yeah," John said. "They're 'bout ready to declare war on Syria."

"And name Washington as head of the campaign."

"You think he'd come out of retirement? I always thought he liked teaching more than the Army." John asked.

"As much as I'm a delight to have in class-" John snorted, and Alex kicked him. "- and a fucking delight to have around in general, he'd probably stop teaching and go back." Alex said. 

They talked for a while more. The conversation died down quickly, and they looked around the city quietly. When Alex's head began to droop half an hour later, John got up and shook him gently.

"C'mon, let's get to bed. We can leave the window open, yeah?" Alex groaned and took the proffered hand up. They climbed back through the window. John threw the hot blankets on the ground and flung himself back onto the sheets.

"Alex," John warned. "Don't you dare come near with your sweaty ass, _me entiendes_?"

Alex laughed and climbed onto the bed. He leaned over and kissed his boyfriend's forehead.  
" _Entiendo_."

 


	2. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the middle of the winter in NYC and John and Alex can barely afford heat. How the hell are they supposed to sleep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today I stepped outside and there were leaves. On the ground. Because summer is over. I cry. Anyway, that prompted this addition to this, because I figured it's too similar to warrant a separate work. Anyway! Here's Alex being whiny because it's cold.

John woke up freezing, his nose as cold as the icicles hanging outside the window. He suppressed the full body shivers and cracked open his eyes. The clock beside him read 2:32. Thank God. He still had four more hours. Across from him was a pile of blankets. No, wait. He could see a face buried somewhere in there. 

“Alex,” John’s teeth were chattering. He kicked the bundle, which only groaned in response. “You stole all my blankets.” 

“Ya snooze ya lose.” Came the mumbled response. 

“Alex, I’m fucking freezing.” 

Alex turned and glared at John through sleep-swollen eyes. 

“Turn up the heat.” 

“We’re broke. We can’t turn up the heat.” John said. He tugged at one of the many quilts Alex had wrapped himself in. 

“Get a job.” Alex whined. 

“I have two jobs.”John said patiently. 

Alex looked at him petulantly, then sighed. He began to unwrap himself from the layers and wiggled out onto the floor, then got up slowly. Under the blankets, Alex was wearing not only sweatpants and one of John’s sweatshirts, but thick socks and a beanie. John tried (not very successfully) to stifle his laugh. Alex turned around at the sound. 

“Are you laughing at me?” He asked suspiciously. 

“No.” John said quickly. Alex put his hood up and John laughed again. Alex raised his eyebrow, lip jutting out. 

“Okay, yes. How long have you lived in New York?” John asked. 

“Five years.” Alex crossed his arms, apparently shivering. 

“Are you ever gonna come to the terms that it gets cold here or are you gonna keep acting like it should be 70 ° every day?” 

“Fuck off, Laurens. You know what? I was going to get you another blanket, but not anymore.” 

Alex fell back onto the bed and began to cover himself back up with blankets. 

“Hey, wait! I’m cold!” John pulled at the blankets until Alex relented. He pulled the blankets to his chin and turned to face his boyfriend. Alex burrowed deep in the pile until all John could see was his eyes, glaring at him from beneath flannel quilts and a disturbing blanket printed with nothing but their friend Lafayette’s face, given quite sincerely as a Christmas present. John leaned over and planted a kiss on Alex’s forehead. Alex’s eyes creased in a way that John could tell he was smiling, if somewhat reluctantly. 

“Someday,” John said, pulling the blankets just a little higher. “When you’re a famous politician and I’m a rich lawyer, we’re gonna make enough money to keep our giant mansion across from the White House at 70° all the time, even when it’s snowing out. You’ll never be cold, and I won’t wake up at 3 AM because you stole all my damn blankets, and we’ll have four dogs and three kids so we won’t be outnumbered, and Eliza will live right next to us to stop us from fucking up continuously because you know we will, and Laf and Herc will have to get an apartment somewhere downtown to keep us in constant supply of drama, and it’ll be great.” 

“Mmm.” Alex scooted closer until his head was pushed against John’s chest. “Sounds great. ‘Cept for one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“We’re not gonna live across from the White House. We’re gonna live  _ in _ the White House.” 

“We are?” 

“Of course. I’ll be president.”

“Ah, how could I have gotten that wrong?” John teased. Alex ignored him. 

“You can be...Oh, fuck. What are they gonna call you? First Gentleman? That’s stupid. First Guy? First Dude? First Dude. I like that. That’ll be my first executive order.” 

“What, that everyone call me First Dude?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What if I like First Gentleman better?” 

“Then I’m gonna be the first president to divorce a spouse while in the White House.” 

“Harsh.” 

“Yeah well, I didn’t get to be president by being a nice guy.” Alex said sleepily. 

“Mm.” John agreed. He yawned. He had to be up so soon. But it was so warm here, so comfortable. 

“Good night, First Dude.” Alex mumbled. 

“Good night, Mr President.” 


	3. A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining really hard.

John was completely soaked. 

He had picked up a late shift at the station, 12 to 12. He didn't mind it so much. Blood, guts, gore just fascinated him, and he was never very tired what with all the adrenaline. 

What did he mind was when he was walking home and the rain was falling so hard that he could barely see two inches in front of him.

He kicked off his boots and left them at the door. Eliza had been over earlier. He could tell because brownies were sitting on the counter and the dishes were washed. Alex barely knew how to operate an oven and didn't touch the sink unless he was bribed. John suppressed a smile as he shrugged off his jacket and left it on the back of a chair. God, he loved that boy. John picked up a brownie and stumbled into the bedroom. 

Alex was curled under the blankets, only his head and hands showing, typing furiously on his laptop. 

“Hi,” he didn't even look at John. John groaned loudly. 

“This brownie is delicious.” He mumbled. He began to unbutton his shirt. Alex rolled over and studied him. 

“I know. I made them.”

“No, you didn't. Liza did.” John shimmied his pants down. 

“Yeah, she did.” Alex grinned. 

John fell face first onto the bed. He rolled over and found himself lying in Alex’s lap. 

“You’re soaked.” Alex noted. He undid John’s bun and began to run his fingers through it. John grimaced as Alex’s fingers snagged knots. 

“It’s raining.” 

“I noticed.” 

The sole window in their room was nearly opaque with rain. The rain hit the fire escape with a soft patter. For once, the apartment was not too hot nor too cold. Alex pulled a blanket over John, and there they sat. Alex, warm, a little sleepy, eyes a little bloodshot from staring at a screen. John, soaked, exhausted, and completely happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mi querido- my darling, my love  
> Me entiendes- do you understand me?  
> Entiendo- I understand


End file.
